(and I use a lot of parentheses)
Funny thing happened the other day.
While I was on my computer at work, typing merrily along, a small corner of my mind absently wondered why it was running a bit slower than usual. I poked that corner with my Mary Poppins persona and told it to straighten up, because in my past experience, when I wonder “what if,” it usually means that the worst-case scenario is about to occur. This has resulted in a near ostrich-like fear of technological glitches, where I bury my entire body in the sand at the first hint of trouble. (move over, Congress.)
My whole problem is that when I look at technology, it breaks. I once managed to destroy my computer three times in a year, all at incredibly inconvenient times. Pseudo says the fact that I now own a Mac is better for everyone around me. (His tone is reminiscent of a parent telling a child that Playskool is just the same as the real thing.) I don’t care; I love my Mac. It doesn’t break on me. Or get infected and die.
When my computer began freezing at the simplest of tasks, I finally gave up and asked my co-worker for help. She’s one of those stealth-nerds; she looks human, but has a vast array of technological knowledge that puts cyborgs to shame. She fiddled around with my machine for a bit, then said, “Hmm.” Great. When she uses that tone, it means it’s time for the Big Guns.
Sufficiently cowed, I put in a call to the IT branch of our department. They sent over one of their friendly oh-so-helpful minions, who very carefully refrained from using the phrase “It’s not your fault.” (He even resorted to elaborate verbal gymnastics to keep from saying it… as if I didn’t feel guilty enough.) After he spent a couple hours shaking my computer to see what would fall out, he finally found the problem. He then spent the next day trying to dislodge the 13 or so Trojans (not condoms) from my computer. No such luck. Stubborn little buggers.
He finally turned to me, shoulders slumped, all friendly demeanor quashed out of him by my Evil Machine, and said that they would have to call the Even Bigger Guns, aka the real IT department.
No! Pseudo works there!
They’ll probably send him over… or worse, he’ll volunteer! (He would just love to have this to hold over my head for the next twelve years.)
The soundtrack of my life is occasionally eerily similar to the theme music from Psycho.
Of course, because I was considering praying to whatever deity in charge of my dumb luck (I think it’s Loki, no joke) that they would not send him over to help “solve my problem,” guess who shows up.
That’s right.
His laughing face appeared over the counter as I was frantically cleaning everything in sight. (I figured that if I was going to wreck everything, it might as well look nice and not covered in the carpet of dust that has magically accumulated while I’ve been there.) I held up the 409 bottle and threatened him with a dousing if he said one word about my situation. (which would’ve been a shame, because he was wearing my favorite shirt.) He was visibly holding back, but settled for snickering at me the entire time. He gleefully informed me that when he saw the work order, he had to beat two others back so he could have the priveledge of “helping” me. The fact that his tone was dripping with sarcasm the entire time was not lost on me, my co-worker, or the twelve student workers standing around, gawking at my path of destruction.
I took some small measure of satisfaction in the fact that I had neglected to mention that my computer was chained to my desk. (Apparently they think that I’m going to make off with the hard drive in the night.) They have the key to the lock… over in his building. (What? I forgot! Really!) He had to walk alllll the way back over there to get it. I tried to rearrange my face into a properly remorseful expression, but I was too busy feeling vindictive for his patronizing attitude.
Anyway, five days later, I now have a bright-shiny-and-new computer at my desk. Well, it’s the same machine, but it’s been scrubbed clean. And now I have Microsoft Office 2007! I’m now only 2 years behind instead of 8! And Pseudo left a note with helpful directions such as “click on this button to destroy the world.” Gleefully sadistic jerk.
I am now afraid to access the internet at all. Seriously. (I have to, because it’s part of my job… dammit.)
Oh, and the best part? They sent me a copy of the work order, and near the bottom, one of the gurus said, “I don’t think this computer should remain on the network while it has this level of contamination; it could infect the network and render us useless for the next decade or so.” Or something along those lines. I don’t speak techie.
In summation, I nearly single-handedly brought down my entire work’s computer network.
What have you done lately?
(My co-worker said that hey, at least I’m giving them something to remember me by.)
